As November fades
and December approaches,
we note plans we haven’t made.
~
Poets have long known,
from Sun Tzu to Robert Burns,
that planning’s over rated!
As November fades
and December approaches,
we note plans we haven’t made.
~
Poets have long known,
from Sun Tzu to Robert Burns,
that planning’s over rated!
Sharp spike of rack
flaming razor shard of ice;
most unwelcome forehead guest.
~
Sometimes it’s no fun
to meet manifestations
of the cutting edge.
On this crisp fall day,
let us linger awhile
and not fast-forward to May.
~
Dry crackling leaves
and fresh November breezes
are preferred to springtime sneezes.
Seeking to preserve
National Integrity
he stoops to gassing children.
~
How low can he go
before even the blind can see
the lack of integrity?
It’s been a contest
between bright light and shadow.
Is it always thus?
~
In some darker times
it’s harder to distinguish
dim bulbs from lighter shadows.
So! Crucifixion
is the ivory soap certain
fate for all who confront him?
~
Fox is his soap box
and fiction is what is used
to crucify dissenters.
In the dark of night
A voice calls out, “Who? Who? Who?”
I call back, “Not me. Not me.”
~
Who can argue with
any speaker wise enough
to call from darkness these days?
Shall we gather by
calm waters this Thanksgiving
and await the certain storm?
~
Each year we gather
and each year we are joined by
many thunder birds.
A midweek break in
the usual routine gives
us a chance to mend at last.
~
This broken routine,
like a low country levy,
makes way for a different flood.
“Form follows function
modernist architects say.
Does this apply to fashion?
~
As far as fashion
goes, nothing much is followed,
certainly not form.
As Thanksgiving nears
what advice do you have for
finicky eaters?
~
The world will not end,
contrary to your belief,
if, on your plate, two foods touch.
Feeding the spirit
can satisfy some hungers
no mere food could ever fill.
~
Whether it’s spirit
or body that needs feeding,
we must be awake to act.
What was lost has now
been found, and NO, I am not
speaking of my mind!
~
Perhaps you refer
to those jewels that tyrant fears;
our collective cojones?
Mimicking Lenin,
another tyrant defends
stripping freedom from the press.
~
Autocrats always
prefer suppression over
open dialogue.
“There’s a whole lot of
shaking going on” – could this
be Trump’s new theme song ?
~
Maybe “Fools Like Me”
is the Jerry Lee Lewis
tune he needs his fans to feel!
Another year passes.
Immortality whispers
enticing lies to mortal souls.
~
If only we were
enticed to be completely
here in mortal dress.
The fortunate few
find real satisfaction in
doing what they have to do.
~
For the rest of us,
our vocational pursuits
fund our real satisfaction.
After traveling
miles in a driving rain,
after-images remain.
~
May fresh images
come to you in restful sleep
now that driving’s done.
Our own Neros are
fiddling while the world
burns. What can we do?
~
Fling open the gates
and embrace the Visigoths
as they rush in to plunder.
Bitter arctic winds
place an exclamation point
upon protracted autumn.
~
And yet we’re warmed by
the spontaneous kindness
of strangers, family, and friends.
In your poetic
opinion, which nursery rhyme
best describes these times?
~
“He stuck in his thumb”
seems like the modern model
of ill-gotten gains.
How can patient care
be a very distant third
behind prestige and profit?
~
Ask those at the top.
This must be in line with their
authentic values.
Where, oh where, has my
fellow poet gone? Where, oh
where can he possibly be?
~
Gone to the city
to prevent the deranged from
committing atrocities…
Fetch Rocinante,
would you, Sancho, my good man?
This windmill needs much tilting!
~
Perhaps if it were
tilted, it wouldn’t go round
in circles and things might change.
Ever hopeful, we
wait and watch. Will folks turn out,
vote sanity in?
~
If we must rely
upon the electorate
we may be disappointed.
That rekindled blaze
in her, once sallowed, spirit
speaks to quality of life.
~
Seeing the return
of vibrancy enlivens
all who grieved its loss.
When the sun shines bright
upon autumn leaves, we bathe
ourselves in golden splendor.
~
Autumn’s golden glow,
in riotous flaming hues,
belies the chill approaching.
Single sentinel
Stiffly stands at attention
Guarding garden greenery
~
Weathered and worn, as
are so many that stand guard,
hoping to protect what’s green
If you knew you could
teach the world to sing, with what
song would you begin?
~
I would teach a song
with a part for everyone
free of integral discord.